She left the elevator and rounded the corner into the atrium. That was when she heard a man's voice from her left.

"Excuse me, but does the word Pasta' hold any special significance for you? " She froze. It was a name she hadn't heard since high school. A name she'd never wanted to hear again.

Gin turned. Him again. Or still. The blond guy in the suit. She now saw some fine linear scars across his forehead and down his right cheek that she hadn't noticed before. He was edging closer, staring at her face like the kids in pediatrics stared at "Where's Waldo" puzzles.

What was his problem?

But then she was struck by something familiar about him. If she imagined his hair four or five inches longer . . .

He stuck out his hand. "My God, it's really you. I don't know if you remember me from high school, but I'm, " The name leapt into her mind.

"Gerry! " She grasped his hand. "Gerry Canney! " "Right! I'm flattered you remember." Remember? How could she forget? Co-captain and quarterback for the football team, captain of the swim team, and an honor student to boot.

She'd had a monstrous crush on Gerry Canney all through Washington-Lee High in Arlington. She remembered positioning herself in the hall outside social studies after third period every day just to watch him stroll by. The scars on his face had wrought subtle changes on his looks, but he was still gorgeous.

"Yox're flattered I remember you? " she said. "I'm flabbergasted you remember me." He grinned. "I've got a great memory for faces. And who could forget a girl with a name like Pasta." He'd said it again.